Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 809 Let... the Milky Way burn as you wish -
Inside the secret chamber of the Serpent Temple, sharp claws, carrying the pungent smell of sulfur, left deep cracks in the rocky floor.

The three heads of the monster inhabiting Gaviallock simultaneously frowned.

Irebas managed to dodge the attack that came from behind.

"I knew it... someone like you, an old hand, would be jealous of a rising star like me."

Iribus stood on the other side of the secret chamber, holding a weapon that shimmered like stardust—the chief priest had left himself a nemesis blade.

"That's right... Between you and me, only one will remain to serve Him! The loser eats the dust!"

Loken’s three heads simultaneously let out a low growl.

The wolf's head lunged forward, spewing out a cloud of icy breath; the bird's head flapped its wings and shrieked, the sound waves creating spiderweb-like cracks in the stone wall; the snake's head flicked its tongue, its long tail lashing out like a whip towards Eribas's ankle. Its claws gleamed with a ghostly blue light, each strike accompanied by a piercing shriek, leaving faint afterimages of frost.

Loken had witnessed Eribas's martial arts skills before, and he had already figured he couldn't be too sure he could defeat the chief priest, whose skills were perfect in every aspect—it would be much easier to defeat the swordsman who was limited to swordsmanship.

The Priest's Nemesis Blade, now glowing with malevolent light, is aimed at Loken, whose vision now reveals a pure thirst for destruction and slaughter.

The Interrex were right; this weapon... was indeed "sentient."

“My martial arts,” he stepped forward, his nemesis blade whistling as it slashed toward Loken’s wolf head, “are what has kept me alive until now. I have killed countless summoned demons. Let me see if you will be the first soul to fall under this sword!”

Loken slammed his wings shut, using his periosteum to take the hit head-on.

The moment the supernatural blade sliced ​​through the scales, his bird head suddenly swooped down, its sharp beak slashing fiercely at Irebas's throat.

Iribus dodged to the side, but was splashed with venom from the snake's head onto his shoulder armor. The corrosive acid instantly burned a black hole in the armor.

The two grappled on one side of the altar, their collisions and missed attacks sending shards of stone and wood flying everywhere. The howls of wolves, the chirping of birds, and the hiss of snakes mingled with the eerie background music of Eribas's loud recitation of the Book of Loga.

Meanwhile, in the hall outside the temple's secret chamber, Euphrates, who had received unexpected help from Ezreal Abaddon and arrived in Devon shortly after the Warmaster's party, which was escorted by Thunderhawks and the Lord of Steel, was panting as she dodged an ice blade shot toward her.

Her linen robe was torn in several places, and her bare arms were covered with tiny low-temperature burns—marks left by Akshub's warp magic—but she still had to move forward—Warmaster—whose body had been sent into the temple and then disappeared somewhere, and he had to figure out what had happened or was happening.
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Just as Hindman's plan had suggested, Euphrates Cielo, the living saint who became a beacon of comfort to people's troubled souls, received tremendous additional support in his vengeful spirit.

They originally had the help of Judgment Day's two co-pilots and planned to land infiltrate Titan's maintenance team, but Judgment Day was ultimately not approved for the first landing.

Just when he was at his wit's end, the chief platoon leader appeared and brought him here. "I just don't want to have any regrets later, woman. I don't owe you anything."

Abaddon gave her a strange, unreadable look, then turned and left.

Horus then proceeded alone, finding it not so difficult to infiltrate the temple, but what about his enormous body? What about his Primarch? He had just watched their levitating stretcher land and be carried inside by the Devon acolytes!

Horus was searching the temple again when he encountered Akshub, who was just emerging from the exit of the secret chamber.

This Devon native priestess appeared to be nothing more than a hunched old woman, but her cloudy eyes gleamed with a fanaticism beyond her years and a power that should not belong to someone of her stature.

"Outsider, do you think you can defy the blessings of the gods with your mortal body?"

Akshub's voice was like sandpaper rubbing together, and the snake bone at the tip of his staff suddenly opened its eyes, shooting out an even thicker beam of energy. "So what if that powerful soul is hidden in your body? Without that cursed body, you can't even unleash one ten-thousandth of its power!"

Qile, or rather, Horus within her, did not answer. Instead, she lunged at the stone pillar to her side. Strange energy emanating from the staff of Akshub grazed her back and struck the temple pillar, exploding into a cloud of dark green, corrosive acid mist.

He gripped the short sword from Lucius tightly in his hand—the best weapon he could find, which he always carried with him.

"Old man, do you know what a warrior's soul is?" At this moment, the mortal woman's voice had a unique, deep tone. "I've killed more aliens than you've seen stars. Even if you're trapped in a mortal body, I can still kill you."

He suddenly ducked and slid in, his short sword skimming the ground towards Akshub's ankle.

The old woman screamed and jumped back, slamming her staff heavily on the ground. Several cracks appeared in the ground, from which countless snake-like energy bodies crawled out.

Horus spun around to avoid the swarm of snakes, but a snake of energy wrapped around his wrist. The icy touch spread through his veins, almost freezing his movements.

Then, gritting his teeth, he violently snapped the energy snake in two, letting the skin on his wrist be torn off. Using the momentum, he lunged at Akshub, the tip of his sword aimed directly at the man's heart.

Akshub was caught off guard and hastily used his staff to block the attack.

The short sword pierced the staff and got stuck there. The priestess's old face showed a smug smile, and Horus also curled his lips.

"Did you know? This is a power sword."

A fierce glint flashed in his eyes. He freed his left hand, grabbed Akshub's wrist, and twisted it sharply using the power granted by the pendant and the force field.

As the staff broke in two and fell to the ground, his short sword also slit the old woman's throat.

The priestess's warm blood splattered onto the reading panel at the entrance to the secret chamber, and then it lit up.

Akshub lay on the ground, staring at the misplaced soul with resentment and venom. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he only let out a hissing sound like air leaking out.

Horus, panting heavily, examined the entrance to the secret chamber, and then he began to try to open it.

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When Horus finally opened the hidden door and rushed into the secret chamber, he saw a three-headed demon and Eribas rolling on the stone magic circle next to the altar in the secret chamber.

Lying quietly on the altar is the very body of Horus Lupecal himself.

The ancient nemesis's blade was stuck in the chest of the three-headed demon, and all three heads were bowed, with only the snake's tongue still trembling slightly.

Irebas lay on his back, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if he thought he should never have died here.

His throat was clearly ripped open by the demon's claws, almost severing his neck. Blood, as crimson as the offering, meandered along the magic circle's pattern, outlining newly carved runes and circular patterns around the altar.

Horus was about to step forward to check when he saw the magic circle, which had been saturated with the blood of the messenger of fate, suddenly boil over.

Countless tiny shadows emerged from the blood, binding the weakened three-headed demon like chains.

The monster's shell crackled as it was torn apart by the warp energy, and spiderweb-like cracks appeared on its skin, with multicolored darkness that could devour light flowing along its edges. As writhing, multicolored chains appeared, a humanoid figure was being pulled out of the demon's body.

The demon's three heads simultaneously let out painful yet triumphant howls. The wolf's mane stood on end, the bird's beak kept pecking at its own chest, and the snake's head stared intently at the phantom, as if bidding farewell to a part of its own soul.

Then, Gavial Loken gradually appeared before the astonished Horus.

“How could this be…Cerberus…No…it’s not time yet…” Loken’s voice was so weak, as if his soul was shattered. “Help me…Primarch…Primarch isn’t here yet…”

The three-headed demon laughed, its back trembling and bulging wetly, from which a pair of insect wings sprouted, and the fourth pair of compound eyes on its forehead, along with the remaining six eyes, abruptly turned towards the blond narrator.

Countless upright beast eyes emerged from the surrounding shadows, like eyes of warning, each reflecting Euphrates's surprised face in the center.

"Horus Lupecal," its voice did not travel through the ears, but resounded directly into the depths of consciousness, like countless sharp ice needles piercing the soul, "you have come? Come and see the future of your rejection of the gifts of chaos here."

The narrator's pupils dilated suddenly. He saw Terra's palaces, mountains, and even continental plates collapsing and shattering in the warp storm; the Emperor's golden throne shattered into pieces; and a crude net-like portal spun through the ruins, spewing out energy more violent than the Eye of Terror.

A crimson wave swept across the Earth like a tsunami, instantly transforming mortals into twisted monsters. The wails of the Eldar echoed from the distant past—the resounding echoes of their demise, now humanity's final dirge.

The scene suddenly changed.

The curtains of the throne room rose, revealing a massive and magnificent doorway. The emperor's figure was bathed in light, surrounded by joyful civil officials and nobles, with the royal guards standing watch at his side. But the moment he reached out to open the door, he let out a painful roar.

The True One Armor turned black inch by inch, and its golden eyes flowed with inky energy. The Imperial Guards twisted instantly in the void of light, transforming into monsters that reaped lives, and in the destructive storm of Terra, they chanted in unison the name of the new god.

Hundreds of millions of people died, the galaxy was divided into countless fragmented lands, every inch of land was burning, and the surviving humans became pawns in the game between the black god on the throne and the few remaining Primarchs. The Primarchs fell or were forced to gradually fall, and humans were turned into food, currency and materials. Even a peaceful rest after death became a luxury.

There's another one... the next one...

Every path leads to a most terrifying future. Even if the initial vision was sincere, with the passage of time and the deaths of those involved and witnesses, everything is reinterpreted and changed. Humanity repeats this process almost endlessly on every thread of fate, until only bonfires burn in the eternal night remain on the ruins of civilization.

"how?"

The mortal's body trembled violently.

Horus's soul surged within Qile, and the impact of those future visions was more intense than any he had experienced before.

"Want one of the least bad ones? Of course, of course, winner, that's what you want..."

He saw the ancient schemes of Erebas and the Word Bearers, he saw the moment his brother fell into depravity, he saw the dark rifts created by various tragedies and misunderstandings, he saw himself leading his army to besiege Terra, he saw Feralus's skull, and he witnessed the death of Sangilius once again. He saw the moment the Emperor had his eyeballs punched out, his skull broken, and fell in front of him, and he saw the galaxy ravaged by chaos afterward. But compared to the future shown by the three-headed demon, this galaxy with some worlds living in peace and prosperity did not seem so bad.

“No…” Horus refused hoarsely in Qile’s voice, “I can’t… I won’t… I shouldn’t… I can’t…”

"You did this not out of your ambition, but for the survival of that part of humanity, and for your father, didn't you?" The darkness spreading from the demon slowly enveloped his mortal body. "Accept us, and use your soul to ignite the flames of galactic rebellion. At least that way... your father won't be doomed, and more humanity can survive... All you need to do is do what you were supposed to do, isn't that good enough?"

Qi Le's body suddenly went limp and she collapsed to the ground.

A silver soul rose from her body and condensed before the altar into the former appearance of Horus Lupecal—wearing pearl-white armor and with an unprecedented weariness and bewilderment on his face.

He hovered in the center of the altar, his gaze sweeping over the visions of the future, before finally settling on Loken with a sigh.

Loken was completely frozen.

Looking at the silver soul, he suddenly understood why Abaddon, the Primarch's most beloved and intuitive offspring, had been avoiding his gaze lately, why Euphrates seemed to have suddenly changed his personality, and why the Iron Lord always wore an eerie silence when looking at him.

Horus had always been there, hiding inside the body of this mortal woman, witnessing everything they did and seeing the scene of her separation from Cypherus.

“Sir…” Loken’s voice was filled with shock and disbelief, “You’ve been…”

Horus's spirit did not answer, but simply reached out, as if wanting to touch the three-headed demon that was chuckling maliciously.

"Wait! Sir! Please don't! I have another way!"

“Loken, this is not your business.”

Horus's soul voice was filled with anguish, tinged with a barely perceptible wavering.

He could feel the allure emanating from the chaos rising from the depths of the altar, coiling around his consciousness like vines.

Gavial Loken stood between Horus and the shadows in the center of the altar, his face pale but radiating an undeniable determination.

"Primarch, I swore to protect you."

“This fragment of soul is called Cerberus. I tore it apart from my own soul with my own hands. Cerberus is a piece of the soul that I will possess in the future. Therefore, I made up my mind to split it off in advance with the help of… so that I myself would have enough consciousness to endure the pain of possession… The offspring can take the place of their genetic father to bear the demon’s possession, as long as they have enough willpower and the ability to endure the torment. This is the only answer I have been given that can protect you. I can do it, sir.”

Loken's body trembled slightly. Every time he met Cypher's gaze, it felt like his soul was being torn apart again, but he did not take a single step back.

Horus's soul fell silent.

“You deserved a longer life, Loken.” Horus’s voice carried an unusual complexity.

“I have already chosen my fate here, which is far more fortunate than most people, sir. At least I have more choices at the crossroads of fate. Besides, I don’t think living on after this is any better fate—no honor, no record, no one to know. So why not let me die with more value?”

This last sentence silenced Horus once again.

Loken turned to the shadowy figure, the edges of which gleamed with four colors of greed. "Let me put the bridle on it, turn it into Cerberus, send your enemies to hell, and ensure your safety afterwards."

Before he could finish speaking, Cypherus suddenly became agitated. It seemed to sense Loken's determination and transformed into a black arrow, shooting towards Horus's reclining body.

Loken rushed forward and stood in front of Horus's body.

"No!"

Horus's soul tried to stop it, but was pinned to the spot by an invisible force—the last vestige of doubt in his own heart, and the eternal rift left in his heart by Chaos's maniacal laughter.

"No—! Gavial! My son!"

As Cypherus collided with Loken, it let out a piercing shriek of both discontent and joy.

Darkness instantly engulfed Gavial Loken, and the shadows that had split from his soul turned against him, engulfing his soul and frantically devouring his remaining consciousness.

Loken's eyes bulged, blood flowed from his seven orifices, his body trembled violently, and his form was constantly being burned away in the darkness, yet he still managed to lock Cypherus into his spirit body with sheer willpower.

Then, with venomous malice and gluttonous pleasure—it tasted the powerful force of destiny borne by another demon—Cerberus ripped Gavial Loken's soul from his body.

Finally, the soul that was constantly battling between the white light and the black shadow merged into the body of the war general Horus on the altar.

"Primarch...Father...Stay...I love you..."

Loken's soul uttered a final whisper, as soft as a sigh, yet it reached Horus's ears clearly.

The restraints around Horus's soul dissipated. He looked at his body, which was rapidly beginning to heal itself with its eyes closed, and felt an indescribable heaviness, a strange sorrow, and many other complex and unfamiliar emotions surging within him.

The only sounds in the secret chamber were the crackling of the burning candle wick and the breathing of the silent body forged from loyalty and sacrifice in the center of the altar.

After taking one last look at his own face, Horus Lupecal's soul slowly closed his eyes, and his silver spirit transformed into a stream of light, once again plunging into the body of the limp Qile.

When Euphrates opened her eyes again, a cold flame of revenge had ignited in those mortal eyes.

"As you wish... my son, then let... the Milky Way burn."

He stood up, straightened his tattered robe, examined the body of Erebas, and quietly left the Temple of the Serpent before "Warlord Horus" awoke.

(End of this chapter)